


Herbology and the Art of the Family Tree

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-22
Updated: 2003-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for QC</p>
    </blockquote>





	Herbology and the Art of the Family Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Written for QC

 

 

There is a strange sort of lurking incest among the pureblood families. You cannot see it straight off, but it is there; running through bloodlines like a quiet poison, causing slow madness and growing stronger in the cousins of cousins of brothers. Incest is not just a harbinger of recessive traits, but a way to ensure that the pureblood families remain as strange as their blood. 

They hold secrets--hidden squibs, dead children, missing legal documents. Their homes are both splendid and decrepit, a lesson in the spectrum of social class. There is no promise of money in blood anymore, except for some. When there is money though, the family ties become, perhaps, stranger. It is said that politics makes strange bedfellows; marriage can make even stranger ones. 

Long ago the Wizarding world abandoned overt arranged marriages for the sake of the younger generation they were inflicted upon, but arranged marriages are not dead. Like a candle that flickers in the wind and does not go out, or slowly burns down to the wick but hangs on, arranged marriages remain an unspoken agreement in the parlors and studies of the more well-off pureblood families. 

As with any society, any flourishing, uncommonly prejudiced society, one marries within one's own social class. One plays with children that belong to that same class, and one does not, above all, step outside of class lines. Isabelle Archer's family was always inline on all accounts, following unwritten societal rules to a tee. 

Isabelle, Pansy's mother, was Lucius Malfoy's fourth cousin, but did not bear the last name Malfoy herself. Pansy's father was a discreet mudblood with a talent for hexes and a silver tongue. When Pansy's parents were married in the south of France, many tongues wagged about how well-matched they were, but beneath the well-wishing there were whisper's of Roger Parkinson's somewhat seedy ancestry. 

Such a pity for a Malfoy to marry below herself, some said. But it was terribly lucky that, that Roger was a Slytherin alum, and also from money. Good, old money made in the 19th century by his grandfather. Reginald Parkinson, who trekked through South Africa and found oil in the ground, who, on his return to England, met a young Witch planning to seek a future with the missionaries, Reginald Parkinson brought oil and magic back with him to London, only to have both become his life. 

When Isabelle Archer married Roger Parkinson, the Parkinson family garnered more magic, and more money, but also Malfoy blood. And blood is always the most dangerous thing to behold. 

\- 

When Pansy was born, a letter of congratulations was sent from the Malfoys to the Parkinson home, a small manor in the country. "My wife has recently given birth as well," the letter read, and continued with, "a male child named Draco. Perhaps and he and your Pansy will grow to be dear friends. You must come by the Manor for tea within a fortnight so that they may meet." So, while arranged marriages may have passed out of sight in the Wizarding world, Isabelle and Roger knew what Lucius' letter quietly entailed. Let us discuss, it said. Let us sit in my lovely wife's parlor, and over tea decide the fate of our children. This will be a good match, a clean match; it said. 

After five days, when Pansy was naught but three weeks months old, the Parkinson's took her to Malfoy Manor, and trussed up like a frilled chicken in silk ribbons and folds of pink and white, little Pansy lay beside Draco in a large cradle and sucked at her thumb with very little grace at all. 

Lucius passed around scotch and Narcissa spoke blandly of crocheting beanies for her darling baby boy. These are going to be Pansy's in-laws, thought Roger. 

\- 

When Pansy was ten, she spent the summer at Malfoy Manor. She spent hours in the gardens, running herself senseless among the topiaries. She carried a guide stone through hedge maze, and never got lost. She did not really see much of Draco, or the young master, as the house elves called him. Pansy knew she would be beginning school with him in the fall. Her mother told her that they would be in the same house. Pansy was particularly fascinated with the idea of Slytherin. She liked snakes, and sometimes she found them in the gardens and let them wrap around her forearms and her ankles like misplaced garters. 

Lucius watched her at play from one of the Manor's many stoned balconies. Draco often sat at his side. They drank iced lemonade, and even though it was a Muggle drink, Lucius said it was an affluent one that should always be taken in the summer. 

"Don't you think she's sort of silly, father?" Draco said to him, one warm day late in July. 

Lucius found Pansy silly in the way that all young girls are silly. She was a fleshy thing with rounded arms and legs, and a subtle nymphet grace. Her face was not exactly beautiful, but sharp and alert; interested. She still wore pink, filly dresses, and they made her look like a packaged gift. Her hair fell in long curls down her back, and although she was a blonde, her eyes were dark and mischievous. Lucius found her silly, but far too alluring for a child of her years. 

"She will make a good wife for you, Draco," Lucius answered him and took a sip of his lemonade to wet his mouth. "Look at how she plays. She is intent and bright, not foolish like some children." 

"Am I foolish?" 

"Malfoys are never foolish." 

"Is Pansy a Malfoy?" Draco asked. 

"Yes," Lucius answered after a moment's thought. "Our blood is on her mother's side, so think of how pure your children will be." 

Draco considered this, and looked out over the grounds of his estate. Below him, Pansy sat on a stone bench and played high notes on the porcelain whistle Lucius had given her at her arrival weeks ago. The air was hot and his pants were sticking to the insides of his thighs. He found it hard to concentrate when he was with his father on the balcony. They sat here nearly every day, and Draco always felt uncomfortable and constrained. 

"I should like to have a wife someday," he said finally. 

Lucius smiled at his son. "I'm very pleased to hear you say so, Draco." 

\- 

Pansy grew taller, but she stayed rounded and girlish. She still wore pink. Draco found her no more beautiful than he did when they were children, but now it did not matter. 

"Come with me to the gardens, will you?" Pansy asked him crossly from the doorway to the boy's dormitory. 

"Don't you ever get sick of the bloody gardens?" Draco shot back. 

"No, I shan't ever get sick of the gardens. They're lovely and it's almost first frost. So come, before curfew." 

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled his fall jumper off a peg by the door with his name above it. All of the Slytherin boys had a place to hang their outer garments on the wall, but Draco's was closest to the door. Being a Malfoy gave one tiny conveniences like that. It sometimes bothered him that Pansy would receive all of the pleasantries that he did when they were married, but he got over it quickly, moving on to more interesting quibbles, like quidditch or schoolwork, or Potter. 

Pansy offered a gloved hand to him and they went out to the Hogwarts gardens. 

\- 

Seventh years had more free time than was really necessary. They had fewer classes to take than all of the other years, and they often pursued research projects of their own while preparing for their NEWTS in the spring. Draco was working on a pre-potions major, Pansy was dallying in herbology--thus her obsession with the flora of Hogwarts. 

They took to the gardens just after nightfall and Pansy pointed out different flowers that only bloomed in fall and Draco looked on feeling less than interested. It was, he knew, going to be a marriage of convenience. They would have children, further the Malfoy line, Pansy would retreat to the gardens of the Manor, and Draco would be left with his aging mother to tend for and a dungeon full of potions. It would be adequate, but it would not be exemplary. Pureblood marriages were like that. He had not expected much more for himself. 

Pansy stopped speaking and Draco looked at her with bored, pale eyes. 

"Is this the part where I kiss you?" He drawled the question. 

"I think so," Pansy said, and she offered her lips to him. 

He touched her hair with a gloved hand and felt the thick curls like strange snakes beneath his fingers. He slipped a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head up further. Pansy's lips parted to reveal slightly crooked, but very white teeth. She breath smelled of mint. She'd offered him one as they'd walked to the garden. 

"Draco," Pansy whined. 

"This love of flowers is so well-suited to your name," he said. 

"Don't try to be romantic, because it isn't well-suited to you at all." 

"Wench." 

"Be lucky your father--" Draco kissed her before she could finish. No need to mention his father who watched Pansy as though she were a delicate morsel or ripe peach ready to be peeled and eaten piece by piece. 

Pansy pulled in close to him and brought their hips together during the kiss. Draco ground against her in spite of himself and backed them toward a thick tree that he could press her against. He could never remember not to react to her. She was, after all, a woman. A woman with breasts that warmed beneath his hands and thighs that parted easily for him when he willed it. 

With the tree pressed firmly behind Pansy's back, Draco lifted her up against the bark and she moaned just so into his mouth as one of his hands found its way beneath her coat and school skirt. She grasped his shoulder and bent to kiss behind one his ears and brush the hair there out of the way so that she could tongue the smooth, cool skin. 

Draco felt the fabric of her cotton underwear and slid two fingers beneath it, to the soft skin there. He moved them passed wiry hair (blonde) hair and the downward curve of her pelvis, still pressed slightly against his own. Pansy made a small mewling noise against his neck, and Draco slipped two fingers inside of her. Pansy attempted to lock her legs around his waist then, and ride his fingers. They struggled for a moment and both were left panting from unexpected friction. 

They were both so surprised by the passion that came of their meetings. Neither cared much for the other's interests, but when nearly naked, or at least touching in the right places it did not matter in the slightest. Pureblood marriages were often this way as well. 

After a moment of helpless panting against the tree, Pansy went to undo Draco's trousers, but he stopped her with a smile. 

"Come back inside with me, I'll sneak you into the dorm," he said. 

"Why not just stay out here?" Pansy pouted. She was often pouting, even when her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes had a stated, warm depth to them. 

"Because I'm cold and I don't my dangly bits hanging out in this wretched air." 

"Fine." Pansy glared. 

She straightened her skirt and jacket and flounced off toward the castle in a blur of pink with Draco following. 

\- 

In the morning, with the early hour blurring his vision and Pansy curled up against him behind the curtains of his four-poster, Draco considered the girl. 

She wasn't all that silly. And she had left a bite mark on his shoulder that would stay until at least Halloween. She liked plants. She was somewhat vicious, and if one wasn't being kind, one could say that she almost resembled a pug. 

Draco was learning that he didn't mind all that much, though. He thought of summers at the Manor and how when he and Pansy actually began to speak they would hide from one another in the hedge maze while Lucius watched from somewhere above. It would not be all that terrible to have Pansy as a wife. 

She would give him children. There would be more blood between them, and that was the most important thing in the end. 

 


End file.
